


Little Talks

by rebelforcauses



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Cute, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Sleepy Cuddles, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-16
Updated: 2017-05-16
Packaged: 2018-11-01 09:28:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10919040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rebelforcauses/pseuds/rebelforcauses
Summary: "Things you said at 1am."





	Little Talks

It had been a quarter after midnight when both James and Lily had gotten back to their flat after another raid. They curled up in bed together, their clothes still on, despite being covered in dirt and blood that wasn't theirs. They were both haunted from what they'd witnesses.

Twelve out of the fifteenth Order members who'd gone on that raid had made it out.

"James?" Lily whispered, knowing he was awake. No one would be able to sleep after watching their friend getting blown up. No one would be able to sleep after having murdered their friends killers.

James could still feel the specks of Emmeline's blood on his cheek. Burning in a way where he felt heavy, not hot. It felt like it was made of lead, not blood. But then again, maybe it was his memory that was weighing him down, not the actual blood.

"Yeah Lils?" James croaked. His throat was sore, from yelling both spells and his fallen comrades names. From yelling Lily's, just to make sure she was still alive.

"Promise me we'll make it out of this alive, the both of us," she asked vulnerably.

The Lily Evans he grew up knowing was a strong willed witch who never let anyone see her weaknesses, she was the kind of woman that would laugh at your jokes and still call you a toe-rag in the same breath. She was the kind that never backed down from what she thought was right. But the Lily Evans in his arms was a stranger. This Lily Evans was curled up into a ball, leaning into his chest, shaking, not from the Aungst night but because she was scared.

Scared to die at the crisp age of eighteen. Scared to leave her loved ones to fend for themselves. Scared to be no more.

James's lips formed a thin line. How could he promise her that? They were, despite being so young, still children, soldiers. How was he suppose to reassure her they'd make it out alive when he couldn't even promise her tomorrow?

By lying.

"Promise, Lils," he murmured into her dark red hair. Hair that he once loved-still loved, but hair, under the blanket of darkness in their room, that looked too much like blood-the blood on his cheek, the blood on his shirt, the one thing of Emmeline Vance that remained. "We'll make it out. I promise."


End file.
